


Smother

by NeverEnoughCats



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blood and Gore, Fluff and Humor, He will bathe later, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Most people don't want to hug the boi because they either afraid he will bite or because he smelly, Tol helping the smol to take things, Very discriminating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverEnoughCats/pseuds/NeverEnoughCats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Junkrat was hugged and the one time he hugged back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smother

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: The Touch of Another Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tfw when someone says that they love you but before you can say it back, they're gone? Yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (no beta, sorry for the mistakes!)

1.

 

She was warm, so warm as though she was about to burst into flames. Even if she did, he didn’t want her to pull away. Her hands, callous and scarred from digging through debris for scraps of food, trembled as they pressed hard against his neck and back.

“Jamie,” she sighed heavily, voice thick and cracking. The banging at the door started up again, the wood starting to splint with every violent smash. Hopefully the cupboard in front of it would hold them off, but he had a feeling it could only do so much. “I’m sorry.”

It struck him as unusual. His mother was not soft and gentle like the mothers on old posters they would use for fire. She would keep him close, a gloved hand on his shoulder or making him cling on to the corner of her shirt but never did she hold him this. Radiation, she told him, it brought pain, made rain burn and changed monsters into bigger monsters. Jamie had yet to see this radiation thing himself but it made her afraid of touching him because they would somehow hurt him if she did. He wondered if he killed this radiation guy and showed it to her, would she be proud?

“Mama?”

“Hush, love. It will be okay.” She pulled away just enough to look at him properly. Jamie was used to her looking fierce, calm and distant despite being right in front of him, like she was always focused on something else but now she pinned him with her gaze, bright with life and wide with emotion. “I need you to promise me something, Jamie.”

There was fear in her eyes, he realised. His mother had that same look as those big people she would gun down, when she was about to stomp down on them after they got caught in her traps. She was afraid and that in turn made him afraid of something he didn’t know. Did he do something wrong? “M-mama?”

She frowned at his tears, scowled more like, lips curled back and a growl low in her throat but her angered stare jumped to the door. The banging behind them pausing only to be replaced by the guttural roar of an engine. Jamie flinched from the loud noise and her arms tightened around him, pulling him closer and hiding his view of the door. “You ain’t in trouble, love.” She hissed, shifting her shotgun aside to stroke his filthy hair. “You ain’t. Just promise me, okay?”

“Anything, mama.”

“There’s me good boy.” His mother smiled, enough to lift the anger from her face and leave her looking more tired and fragile than Jamie had ever seen before. He knew she hadn’t been eating since they left the last house they broke into, giving them all to him because she ‘wasn’t hungry’ but Jamie could see her ribs and sunken cheeks. “I need you to stay in this room ‘til I come back, hear me? Don’t make any noise and set a trap at the door, then hide. Promise?”

“Where are you going?”

“To take care of those fucks.” Snarled his mother as a horrible sound screamed behind them. He caught a glimpse over her shoulder, a chainsaw eating a line through the door and bits of wood flying. She firmly grabbed his face to force him to look back at her again, hissing to his ear so he could hear her words over the screeching. “Promise me, Jamie!”

“Promise!” He yelled back and she flashed him a wild grin, before planting a kiss on his forehead. His mother yanked out a trap from her bag, the bear jaw, her favourite and tossed it on the floor and was on her feet in a flash. She hauled up her shotgun, pausing at the only window of the room. They were on the second floor, he recalled being dragged up stairs, but the height didn't even make her flinch. The chainsaw stopped and the banging started up again, the door almost giving way yet still standing with the heavy cupboard blocking the path.

“Jamie.” She said, halfway out of the window with soft eyes and an even softer smile. He glanced up from the bed he was about to duck under, noticing that she wasn’t holding the bag she always took along. “I love you.”

“Love you too, ma.” Jamie answered but she was already gone. Moments later, a gunshot rang out and the banging stopped.

People were shouting angrily, boots hammering the floor - away from the room while another shot rang. He flinched and curled into himself, but then remembered what he promised his mom and glanced around for the bear trap, spotting his mother’s bag by the old bed. Carefully, he set down the trap in front of the door, right where his mom taught him most people would step at. He even took out the heavy fire axe she would use to cut them down, just in case and slipped under the bed. Her bag sat close, limp against the bedpost and Jamie frowned, pulling it to hide with him as well and waited.

He didn’t know how long he stayed under that bed. The gunshots and the screaming had stopped a while ago, leaving him in a dull ringing silence broken occasionally of creaking wood and the dusty wind howling outside. Jamie had lost count of how many times he had looked through the contents of his mother’s bag. There wasn’t anything special, another gun, a few other traps, a can of fruits that said mango in dirty printing and two bottles of filtered water she took from the last guy they killed. At first, it was fun, poking around at the guns and traps and almost losing a finger at one point but by the third time he ended up arranging the mess into a more organized mess. He had always been a skittish kid, hands needing something to toy with or else he would go looking for one. He was tempted to leave the bed just to poke around elsewhere or even peek out of the crack in the door when he heard the floorboard creak.

Jamie pressed his ear to the wooden floor, listening as the quiet footsteps wander the halls. There was more than one person as far as he could tell, grumbling too softly for him to hear but they definitely weren’t his mom.

“Sure she went ‘ere?” He finally heard, voice too close for comfort but thankfully the owner continued further away. “Didn’t see nuthin’ when we chased ‘em.”

“Yeah, she went in this one.” A violent kick to the door nearly made Jamie yelp, clamping dirty hands over his mouth to keep quiet. “Oi, help me with this.”

“Fuck you, mate. I ain’t stayin' in this shithole for some squirt.” One set of footsteps stomped away but the other remained in front of the door. The door shook from another kick and Jamie stayed quiet, clutching the handle of his mother’s fire axe tightly as the man smashed once more.

With a loud snap, the door gave way. Something screamed for Jamie to get up and do something as he saw the large cupboard slowly began to move. From his hiding place, he could see the hand grabbing the corner of the cupboard, an ugly skull carved at the knuckles. He remembered another man with that same symbol, legs caught in his mother’s bear trap as he cursed at them before she shut him up. A gang of bandits, not Junker sized yet but still dangerous.

Gritting his teeth, Jamie carefully rolled out from under the bed without a sound, dragging the fire axe behind.

The man at the door grunted with a final push, making just enough space to squeeze past the blockage and distracted just enough not to notice the dull shine of metal by his feet.

Jamie had heard the noises people make when they got caught in the traps, their startled cries at the snap that sealed their fate and then the bloodcurdling screams as the pain sunk in and they start to struggle. It didn't scare him anymore. The man was no different, only closer than he was used to. For the best, really. It made it easier for the axe to land on the guy.

The first swing was sloppy, Jamie knew as he squeezed his eyes shut at the slap of warmth on his face. His mother would had frowned as she corrected his stance, too weak and shitty aim. Swing higher, she would snap and he would try even as his small hands shook from effort. The man was still alive thanks to his poor attack, hands stuck in the act of attempting to yank the steel jaws open. The blade had hit the space between his shoulder and neck, blood running down his collarbone like a broken dam. Jamie quickly yanked the axe away before the man could grab it and turn it against him, forcing his arms higher as she told him and swung.

The neck of a human was much tougher than firewood, he realised as the axe struck bone. It wasn’t as clean of a kill as he wanted but it did the job. The struggling had slowed to the stop, a few twitches now and then but the glazed eyes of the stranger told Jamie that he was as good as dead. He still did a few more swings, just in case as nervous panic gnawed at his stomach.

 _I did it_ , Jamie thought as he stared at the dying man before shuffling outside had instinct kicking in. He chunked the axe aside and dragged the body deeper into the room as swiftly as a child his age could, frisking the clothes for anything useful. A gun, some ammo, a small bag of weird dried meat he had never seen before and a hand grenade. The last one sat in his palm easily as he weight it, eyeing the pin with curiosity. His mother never let him touch them whenever they were lucky enough to find these, worried that his itchy fingers would tug the pin out just to see what would happen.

She was probably right so he stuffed it into the bag before he could yank out the pin. You never knew what restless hands could do. He picked up the axe and peeked out of the broken door. Whatever was outside was gone for now, but the man’s friend would come back looking if he stayed.

Biting his lip and tasting rust, he picked up the bear trap, wiping off the red the best he could with the guy's clothes and stuffing it into the bag. After shouldering the bag and careful steps, he found himself peering at the ground floor of the house and listening. Still no gunfire or sign of the group that attacked them, but he didn't take any chances of running around and making noise. Lucky for him, there was plenty of cover in the yard of the old house. He was almost out of the yard when he stepped in something wet, soaking into his over-sized shoes and smelling of metal.

If you find a blood trail, check your surroundings she taught him. If animal prints follow the trail, stay away. If human and there's no sound of gunfire, check it. Blood trails usually led to a body, a body usually meant good junk. The boy poked at the ground damp with blood, curiosity growing at the large boot prints amongst the burnt grass. He followed them, keeping himself small and quiet when something caught his eye.

A pile of rumble from a nearby house, a familiar hand peeked out from behind the debris.

“Ma?"

He scampered over to the pile like a rabbit to a burrow, a delighted gasp caught in his throat and eyes wide with glee. He couldn't wait to tell her of what he did in the house, all by himself. He didn't notice how pale the hand was despite its tan and scars. He found her slumped against the rumble, expression twisted into a feral snarl and glassy eyes. Her shotgun was nowhere to be seen but a dark oval sat in her clenched fist, pin untouched. She died before she could blow them up.  
  
Part of him wanted to cry, to curl up against his mother and maybe she would blink and scold him for coming too close. The open maw of red at her neck told him otherwise, but he was already shaking uncontrollably from the sight. The other part of him knew. He already knew that it was bounded to happen, that she wouldn't always be there but he didn't know it would be now. Slowly, Jamie sat down beside her and breathed, small chest wrecked with choked sobs and stifled whimpers.

Then the fear came. It swallowed him whole, like he was shoved head-first into a murky pool of water and he sunk. He was alone now, barely strong enough to swing an axe right or steady hands to hold a gun. Jamie grasped at his mother's arms, attempting to move closer while he drowned on land. The grenade knocked against his chest and the smell of blood made him sick but he kept pushing, curling up against her cold skin and rest his head on her shoulder.

Someone was shouting, a quiet voice whispered from the back of his head, loud enough to be heard over the fear that ate him. Jamie peered over his shoulder, blinking away his tears to look at the house where they hid to see three adults storming around in the yard. One of them glanced in his direction and caught sight of him. "There he is!" The voice was the same as the one who came and left earlier. Jamie was right, the friend did come looking.

He spent a few precious seconds doing absolutely nothing, body unwilling to move even with the overhanging threat of death. Maybe it would be better that way. No, he told himself as he scrambled up. She wouldn't want that. The least he could do was die trying to kill them. His previous search for comfort had loosened his mother's grip on the grenade, now his movement knocked it out from her hand, Jamie noticed as the oval sluggishly rolling over to him. He glanced up at her hopefully, halfheartedly looking for a change in her expression. She still looked angry but he couldn't help but grin. It was like his ma was giving him permission to finally use those egg things.

"He's got a 'nade!" The warning was somewhat late, the three leaping away as the ground burst with a roar of thunder. He cowered against his mother but his eyes were fixed on the explosion, wide with awe. The sight dragged something out of his chest, smothering the fear and panic and when the blast died down, the urge to _see it again_ was almost as overwhelming as the fear was. His hands rampaged through the bag, the frantic grin on his face growing wider when his hand took hold of what he needed. Two of the three stood up covered in dirt and shrapnel, the other laid on the grass unmoving. It didn't matter.

"If at first you don't succeed," he muttered to himself, yanking out the pin out and tossing the second one, "blow it up again."

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the Junkrat Discord group AKA Twinkie enthusing space, they are very nice people and have plenty of ideas involving the Aussie boi. They are also the ones who suggested the name touch of another. Idk how to link stuff on AO3 anymore so here: 
> 
> https://discord.gg/015A1IC7Nv3BAnseK


End file.
